Solution
by goshers
Summary: The talisman, and therefore the rain, was the perfect solution. A post-movie fanfic concerning the new lives of 9 and the remaining stitchpunks. Spoilers. Possible 9x7 fluff. Rated T for violence and some possible language later on. Discontinued.
1. Chapter 1: Rain

**Author's Note:** This is the first fanfiction I've ever written, and I've done my best to keep the characters true. This takes place after the movie , so if anyone died, they won't be appearing here. However, at least two (and maybe more) of my own OC's will show up, and I've tried to keep their designs at least somewhat original. Also, some 7x9 fluff may show up later.

Okay, um.. other than that, I have already written 3 other chapters, I just need to type them up. And yes, I treat 3 as a boy and 4 as a girl. Also, 9, 7, 3 and 4 belong to Shane Acker, unfortunately, but the OC's belong to me. Yayy.

-

Prologue;

_The talisman, and therefore the rain, was the perfect solution. The souls of the deceased would heal the parched earth_, _and the world would belong to the tiny rag dolls alone. It worked. Of course, not even the Scientist knew what would happen, and neither did he know everything to know about the Talisman, but he knew enough to know that it would save the stitchpunks. And it did._

-

_How long will it be until life really does go on?_ 9 wondered glumly, sighing at the sight of the dark sky. It had been raining for days now, and the twins had been busy observing the properties of the water. 7 was out scouting, making sure there were no rouge machines nearby. But 9 was just sitting there, idly tracing a circle in the mud. He kept telling himself that life had to go on, that they would have a new life in this world. But he was still sad. They had managed to finish off the Machine, yet nearly all of them had been lost in the process. 2... 8... 5.. 6.. 1. They were all gone.

Of course, in destroying the robot, 9, 7, and the twins had set the others' spirits free. They weren't trapped anymore. Yet 9 was still depressed, wishing he could see the face of 5 again, and 6, and 2, even 1 and 8, who seemed to have been smiling at the end. He slowly unzipped his zipper, bringing out the Talisman, which he always kept inside. The symbols on it that 6 had so obsessively drew didn't glow anymore. Rain pattered onto the device, and 9 sighed and began to put it away.

Only...what was this? As rain began to fall onto the Talisman, the symbols started to glow again. 9 looked up at the sky, and realized that the raindrops themselves were glowing the same exact green as the spirits of the others. Slowly but surely, he held out the Talisman, and it seemed to soak up the rain. Amazed, 9 began to smile for the first time in days.

"7!" he called. "3! 4!" He paused, then continued.

"I have something to show you guys."

And so it began. Over the next several months, 9 and the others began creating a new stitchpunk, christened 10. It was hard, since 10 had to be at least as big as they were by the time they were finished. But they stitched and they sewed pieces of cloth and other things together, in the laboratory that they themselves had been created. 3 and 4 studied the various sheets of paper and books so that they could correctly create 10 while 7 and 9 did the main labor of the work, as well as finding the materials they needed. But once the basic interior of the new stitchpunk was finished, 7, 9, and the twins discussed what 10 was to look like.

On a sheet of paper, 3 scribbled with a tiny piece of graphite, _She should be strong_. 4's head bobbed in agreement and 9 said, "Well, there's no harm in strength." 3 and 4 blinked their optics back and forth for a minute, discussing how they should design the arms and legs to do this. 9 patiently waited, but it was not long before 7 blurted out, "I don't want to do this," a pained expression on her face.

9 turned to 7, the warrior, in shock. "What do you mean?" he asked, bewildered. 7 had advocated their project strongly - she had had faith in his theory about the Talisman when he himself had doubted it. But now she was saying something entirely different. 9 was trying to make sense of this when she spoke again.

"I don't want to _plan_ how another being looks! This 10 isn't alive yet, but she will be, and I-well, I just don't want to openly discuss and debate it.. We are her creators, and I think we shouldn't just knowingly d-design her. Does that make sense?" 7 was nervous now. They were all so eager, yet she didn't feel right. She wondered if this was how the Scientist, their creator, had felt. Or maybe this wasn't. Maybe the Scientist had knowingly designed 2 to be smart, and 5 to be shy, yet 8 to be dumb and merely a brute. Had he created 1 knowing that he would be a cowardly fool? What about 6, knowing that he would be tortured by visions?

Such thoughts much have occurred to the others, for 9 placed his metallic hand on 7's shoulder and said softly, "The Scientist didn't design your skullmet." And 7 knew that _this _rang true. He hadn't designed her skullmet, or how she had slowly been turned white, or 5's missing optic.. Sadness filled her, and she resisted the urge to turn away. She must be strong, and she gave a false smile to the others. Whether or not it convinced 9 she didn't know, but it seemed to cheer up the twins.

Nevertheless, there was an unspoken agreement to her words. They did not plan how 10 would look, they simply added parts that felt right. They would separately find and stitch together pieces, and then silently add them to 10. In this way the new stitchpunk was created, assembled out of randomness, on impulse.

7 had, one day, attached a small antenna-like thingy to 10's right optic. She had no idea what purpose it would serve or whether it served any purpose at all, but it felt right. And the next day, when she came to polish 10's hands, the antenna was still there, so she knew the others approved of it. Such occurrences were common in the months to follow.

Some of the pieces of cloth and other things added to 10 were less random. 7 had walked in one morning to find two buttons adorning the front of 10's body. She couldn't help but stroke them, and she spent the rest of the day looking out the window of the room she had deemed hers, wondering where 5 and the others could have gone.

Another time, when 10 was nearly done, 3 had locked the door behind him before fastidiously adding the five small things he had brought with him. For hours his sister, 4, had waited outside the door for him to come out, for she had discovered something seemingly amazing about the plants of old. She had began to anxiously pace outside - what if something had happened to 3? - when she heard the _click_ of the door being opened. Before 4 could communicate a question to her brother with her optics, he had slipped away to another room in the building. Bewildered, she went inside 10's room - for that is how they referred to the room now - to see what had kept 3 inside so long. But her initial inspection yielded nothing, and she frowned in worry - that is, until she nearly knocked over a bucket of ink and a pile of paper. _Paper?_ she wondered, her optics flickering curiously. _Why on earth would ink and paper be needed? Unless-_ Not bothering to finish her train of thought, she rushed over to 10 and examined her hands. Sure enough, pen nibs had been fastened to the ends of 10's right hand. _Oh_, she thought.

But it was 7 who stitched a darker piece of cloth to the top of 10's head, perhaps to mimic 2, 7 whose hands were stained black for a while from using the ink to create stripes across this cloth and the cloth on 10's legs. 7 had carefully crafted 10's feet and made sure 10's mouth and voice processor were linked.

Despite this, it was 9 who, on the day they had planned to bring 10 to life, gently put a cape on 10. A red cape. And on this cape he used the ink to paint 10's number, although her number was on her back just as it was on the others'. Finally, after using a small dark green button to use as a clasp for this cape, he stood back and admired their work. 10 seemed wonderful, with elements of nearly all of the fallen stitchpunks reborn in her. He didn't even notice that 7 and the twins had entered until they were standing right next to him.

After a few more minutes, 9 said, "Well, no point in waiting any longer. Let's bring 10 to life!" 7 cheered, and smiles lit up 3 and 4's faces. Quickly, 9 brought out the Talisman from inside his "pocket". Then, carefully, he pressed the three symbols in the right order, bringing the device to face 10.

A long flash of green light came from the Talisman - something had happened, but had the essential element of 10's creation worked? The device in his hands was _shaking_, and 9 had to struggle to keep ahold of it. After what seemed an eternity, the light faded, but 9 found his hands still shaking, and the device slid from his grasp as he blacked out.

-

**Author's Note**: Sorry for the somewhat cliffhanger ending, I just figured this would be a good place to end the chapter. The next chapters will be longer than this one, by the by.


	2. Chapter 2: Introductions

**Author's Note:** Sorry for all the exposition. More exciting chapters to come, I hope. :P

-

When 9 awoke, he was on the cold ground, flat on his back. Slowly he blinked, taking in the faces surrounding him, 7. 3. 4. And 10.

10! So it had worked. Their creation was alive at last. He smiled, and 7 proceeded to leap on him in a fierce hug.

"We were worried," she whispered. "10 awoke, and then you were on the ground... shaking... and then you were still. We thought the worst." Fear and worry were still etched on her face, though 9 was clearly alive.

"I'm fine," 9 said reassuringly, rubbing his sore arm - he had probably fallen on it. Turning to 10, he ruefully smiled. "Sorry I ruined your introduction into the world. I mean, it's like, you awake for the first time, and you're greeted by me spazzing on the floor."

In response to this, 10 smiled shyly. And slowly, she looked at her whole body. She wiggled her fingers and began to walk around. Of course, once 10 began doing this, 3 and 4 decided it was okay for them to examine her as well, and they ran up and cataloged her much as they had once cataloged 9, even though they had taken many 'pictures' of 10 while she was in the process of being created. 10 giggled as 3 poked her antenna, and the atmosphere was cheerful and lighthearted.

After a few minutes, 10 looked up to the more mature stitchpunks, 9 and 7. She felt her optics with her fingers and whispered, "Who am I?" In speaking the question she showed herself to be really just a young girl, though she was just as big as 9 and 7.

In answer, 9 traced the number 10 in the dust on the wall. Then he grinned and pointed to her cape. "10," he stated, as if he hadn't already made that clear. "And I am 9. And this is 7, 3, and 4." As he spoke each of their numbers, he gestured to them with his hands. A broad smile broke out on 7's face as she added, "You are one of us." And this inclusion, this feeling that she was part of something - a family, though she knew nothing of families - made 10 feel good, but she had many questions still.

"Where are we?" was 10's next question. "And how did we get here?" 9 smiled at her. _She has an inquisitive mind_, he thought. _Like the twins. _

7 wasted no time in actually answering 10's questions. "This," she began, waving her hands at their surroundings, "is the Scientist's laboratory. It is the place where he created us. It is the place," she said in a softer tone, "where we created you." She paused for a moment to let this sink in and then continued. "In the beginning, there was war and chaos between the machines - giant evil hunks of metal - and the humans, who are like us but bigger and made differently. The war ruined the landscape and killed many, many humans. The Scientist created us so that.." She paused and looked at 9, and he took up the initiative.

"So that life can go on." He nodded expertly and continued. "Soon, the war was over, but the machines still walked the land. We have killed a great many of the machines - at least the ones in this area. There are probably more of them out there. But here, we are safe." He shot 7 a glance, hoping that she would get the message: 10 would probably be scared by any description of the others' deaths.

Uncertainly, 7 returned the glance. 10 deserved to know.. but it was true that she was young, a newborn. _If she asks,_ 7 told herself, _I will answer truthfully_. Her qualms settled, she continued.

"This," she explained, holding up the Talisman, "has the power to create more of us. We'll go into the details later, but-" She cut off as 3 began a slideshow of 10's creation. The first picture was of the mechanical 'ticker,' their equivalent of a heart. The next pieces were of 9 and 7 putting together the optics - _her_ optics, 10 realized. The slideshow proceeded to show pictures going by faster and faster of 10 being built. She got a glimpse of a cape being attached before the light from 3's eyes died, and the room was dark again, except for the little light that came in through the ruined windows.

After a few moments of silence, 10 slowly said, "You guys created me.. and the Scientist created you. Who is the Scientist?"

9 explained softly, "You mean who _was_ the Scientist. I never knew him, but-" He glanced at 4, seeing as 3 was still tired from his presentation, and another 'movie' ensured.

The first view let 10 see just how big the humans really were. Right away she saw that a brown stitchpunk, whom she assumed to be 9, could fit in the palm of the Scientist's hand. The aforementioned Scientist seemed to be in the process of creating 9, and she watched with interest.

His optics widening at the sight of the unawakened stitchpunk, who was painfully familiar, 9 shot a glance at 4, but she was preoccupied with conjuring up more of the video. He then turned to 7 and she gave him a rather stern look. Right. No lying, even if he thought 10 wasn't ready for the truth. But maybe 7 was right. They couldn't avoid the subject forever; why not just let her know now?

10 was watching attentively as the Scientist carefully sewed two buttons on the stitchpunk. Something about this nagged at her, but she wasn't quite sure what it was, so she ignored the feeling.

For 9's part, a pang of sadness shot through his chest, and 7 turned away from the video. 4 must have been feeling grief as well, for she cut to the scene when the Scientist released them all, and then to a final solemn projection of the Scientist lying dead on the floor. 9 walked forward a few steps and placed his arms around 7 in an effort to comfort her, and the twins huddled close together.

10 had to stare at where the projection had been for a few moments after 4's optics had flickered and returned to their normal state before she stuttered, fumbling her words, "He's not- I mean, his optics- they're not- he-"

"He's no longer alive," 9 croaked, and 10 whirled around, only now really realizing the atmosphere of grief.

"Oh, guys - I'm so sorry," 10 Scientist had been their creator - of course they would be sad, and she had asked about it so bluntly! "I didn't mean-"

"Shh," 7 said soothingly, breaking her embrace with 9 to face 10. "You didn't know. You couldn't have known - we didn't tell you." At this, 10's expression changed to confusion. They had told her all about the Scientist, hadn't they? The whole thing - the video of the scientist creating 9, him setting them free, his cold, dead body - had been about the scientist, hadn't it.

_Hold on a minute,_ she thought, remembering one particular aspect of the video.

_9 doesn't have buttons._

And everything fell into place. There had been others, presumably the missing numbers; 1, 2, 5, 6, and 8. They had died somehow, and 9, 7, 3 and 4 still missed them. How stupid of her to ask so many questions!

As she looked down at her feet, wishing she hadn't brought them to this topic, she realized something else.

_She_ had buttons.

10 slowly raised her head, meeting 9's gaze. A single sound escaped her lips.

"Oh."


	3. Chapter 3: The Unknown Stitchpunk

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay, I was at a sleepover last night and couldn't submit this. And I just realized how short this chapter is. Oh well.

-

There was a few moments of silence, in which 10 felt guilty and awkward, and then, a brief flash of bright white light came from outside, and 7 leaned forward, fiercely gripping her spear. In contrast, 10 shrank back, scared of whatever had got 7 on guard. 9 said in a seemingly calm tone, "It's probably just lightning," but 10 could see him fearfully stow the Talisman inside his 'pocket' and zip it up tight.

A scream of fear elicited from the darkness, and 9 gasped. "Wha-" He cut off as 7 made for the door. "Stop!" he cried. "It could be a trap!" 7 remembered just as well, better even, as he did the horrors of the Seamstress, but 7 replied anxiously, "It could be, but it seems to me _someone else_ made that sound. We're not heartless, 9 - we _have_ to go see. What if-" Their gaze met, and the intensity of her hope, her willing to believe the impossible, overwhelmed him. Of course they had to go.

They were still for a moment, but then 7 turned and ran out the door, and 9 hurried after her, motioning to the other three with his hands, and they followed as well.

10 had to run to keep up with the others, but she was distracted by the sheer hugeness of the world outside. It rather scared her, but being alone scared her even more, so she followed 9. Still, every so often her optics would widen in wonder - and sometimes horror - at the outside world. The others were used to this, however, so 10 had little time to dawdle and gaze at the ruined landscape.

The scene that the five came upon after nearly half an hour of following the screams of pain and fear was astonishing. There, cowering next to a rather large building block, was another of their kind. But it was not one of their old friends, as 7 had dared to hope back in the laboratory. The figure was unfamiliar, with no characteristics of any other stitchpunk they had known. 7 took a step forward, and the stitchpunk whimpered, scooting back a little.

He was quite a sight, and a sorry one at that. His body was covered in much and grime, so much that 9 could barely tell what kind of fabric he was made of. One of his optics was cracked and cloudy, and the other one didn't seem to be in prime condition either. He had only 2 fingers and a thumb on each hand, and they curled up when the twins' optics turned towards them. Worst of all were the injuries, which were probably the cause of the screams. There was a gash above his broken optic, and one of his legs was barely attached to him. The stitching down his middle had been hugely torn open by something - but what? What could have done this to the unknown stitchpunk? This question seemed to be on all their minds, and the twins cowered behind 7, who was looking around anxiously.

The stitchpunk made a strangled sound, his gaze passing over the others. He seemed to focus on 7's spear, and she attempted to soothe him, saying, "We're not going to hurt you," but this just caused him to jump back. With a loud _clonk_ his head hit the building block, and he slumped over.

Cautiously, 9 stepped forward to kneel by the unknown stitchpunk. "He's badly wounded," he said, stating the obvious. After a moment of taking in injuries, he sighed and turned to the others. "We better take him back. He won't survive out here like this."

"Who is he?" 10 asked, looking the poor stitchpunk over. 3 and 4 ran forward as well, clicking and flickering all over him, but 7 scolded them. To 10, she replied, "I don't know. I've never seen him before. I thought the Scientist only made nine of us." 7 sighed, reminded of the grief that had overtaken them all not so long ago.

"Well, whoever this is," 9 said, a little impatient to leave the danger zone, "something hurt him, and I don't want to meet that something. Let's get back." The others nodded in agreement, and they hurriedly picked the unknown stitchpunk up, with the twins carrying his legs, 9and 10 carrying his middle, and 7 leading them for once, her gaze sweeping ahead and her spear at the ready. In this way, they took the journey back to the laboratory that had once belonged to the Scientist.


	4. Chapter 4: Blank

"Hand me that needle, 10," 9 instructed, more than a bit nervous. He had helped 7 with minor wounds before, but nothing as serious as this. 10 brought the needle, and the twins struggled to lift a spool of burgundy thread. Quick as lightning, 7 went to help him, the pattern of her feet skipping over the dirty floor mesmerising 9 for a moment, but only a moment. While 9 cautiously repaired the stitchpunk's leg, carefully sewing together the torn fabric, 7 examined the optics of the still-unconscious stitchpunk, and the twins cataloged his hands.

Just as 9 set down the needle for a moment and began to inspect the open interior of the stitchpunk to see if anything was broken, though he was not an expert in such things, 7 declared, "The left optic is no good, but I don't believe it's hurting him, and I don't want to remove it without his approval." 9 replied, "I'm not sure I know how to do that anyways," and their gazes met. 10 once again felt the atmosphere of sorrow, but the moment passed, and 7 asked, "Do any of you have anything I can clean his optics with?" The twins scurried off and came back with a piece of green fabric, and 7 proceeded to polish the stitchpunk's optics, even the broken one.

10 peered around 9's shoulder, not wanting to interfere, but curious nonetheless. "Is he hurt in any more ways?" she asked.

"Well.." 9 trailed off, peering at the mess of components inside the stitchpunk's body. "I can't be sure if any of that stuff has been messed up, and I don't want to touch anything. However, the voicebox - at least I think that's the voicebox - looks wonky." He gestured towards a rectangular piece located near the 'heart', being careful not to touch anything. 10 looked at the alien contraption, and she had to agree that it looked a little out of shape. She was about to voice this agreement when 9 continued. "I really don't know how all these things work, though. If I did, I might know what's wrong with the voicebox, and how to fix it. But I fear I may make it worse if I try to mess with it. So I think it would be best to just stitch him back up. Do you guys agree?" 7 nodded, her attention also turned towards the voicebox. "I agree that it doesn't look right," she said. "But I hardly even know how to help myself when it comes to injuries.. I guess I always took for granted having a healer."

9 sighed sadly. "Well, we're the healers now, 7," he murmured. "Let's sew this guy up." With that, he picked up the needle again and began stitching once again. After a while he turned to 10 and asked, "Hey, could you give me a hand? My fingers are getting weary." 10 slowly nodded and he passed her the needle. Cautiously she began to stitch the newcomer up, but as time went past she began weaving in smooth, quick motions, first stitching up the gash above his head, then finishing 9's work down his front. Until-

"Wow," 7 said, breaking the silence. "I'm impressed, 10." 10 smiled and put down the needle, and 9 snipped off the remaining bit of thread attached to the unconscious stitchpunk with a small set of scissors he had found. "Thanks," 10 replied shyly. "I just wanted to help, so-" Their friendly exchange was interrupted by a groan from their guest, and both of them fell silent.

The unknown stitchpunk's one working optic fluttered open, and he seemed to be dazed for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, until he took note of the figures crowded around him. He jumped back, afraid of so many of them being so close. A frown appeared on his face as he didn't feel the pain he expected to feel, and he looked down at his body, patting his leg and body, optic widening in amazement at the healed state he found himself in. He was expecting the sewing mastery 10 had done when he seemed to remember that the others, who were potentially enemies, were still then. He snatched the nearest sharp object, 10's sewing needle, and adopted a defensive stance. 10 cried, "Stop!", but the sharp cry only caused him to grip his weapon tighter. Trembling, 10 said softly, "We're not going to hurt you. We helped you, see?" The newcomer hesitated and looked down at himself again, and he must have reached the conclusion that _someone_ had stitched him up, and he slowly patted his sewed-up front and looked at 10 and the others questioningly.

"That's right," 10 said kindly, and she took a step forward, palms facing up to show that she had no weapons. For once, 9 and 7 stayed back, both being a little suspicious about their guest. And at 10's movement, the unknown stitchpunk tensed again, but his gaze flickered once again to his fixed body, and he let go of the needle. He sat down on a spool of thread, and 10 slowly approached, knowing that quick movements might frighten the paranoid stitchpunk. "I'm not going to hurt you," she repeated in the same soft tone. When he didn't react defensively, she slowly walked over and sat down next to him on another stool, and 7 approached as well, making sure to put her spear down before she walked over. "What _happened_ to you?" she asked in a almost fearful tone, her gaze falling on his broken optic.

3 and 4 had caught the message - no sudden movements - and they tried not to startle their guest, cataloging him only from a distance, But when they walked around for a view of his back, they started clicking and flickering to each other in astonishment. They ran over to 9, tugging at his hand, concern for moving slowly lost. 9 looked at the newcomer, but he seemed to be lost in thought, so he let the twins pull him to their previous vantage spot behind the unknown stitchpunk. Puzzled, 9 couldn't figure out what they were pointing at until he too saw the newcomer's back. He gasped loudly - too loudly, his hands flying up to cover his lips, but it was too late. 10, 7, and the newcomer whirled around, the latter having grabbed the needle again. 10 began to plead with their guest, trying to calm him down, and 7 let out an irritated sigh. "What?" she snapped, though she tried to keep her tone peaceful. "What are you three freaked out about?"

9 slowly lowered his trembling hands. "He's blank," he replied in an awed tone. "He has no number." Behind him, 3 and 4 nodded in assent. 10 didn't dare move, but her optics flickered as she tried to catch a glimpse of his back.

"Blank," the newcomer whispered in a hoarse tone. "I'm Blank." This time 10 did jump, for the pitch of Blank's voice varied with each syllable; apparently something really had been wrong with his voicebox. Blank frowned at this new complication as well. "What - why..?" He trailed off with a sigh, massaging his throat.

After a moment of hesitation, 9 answered, his voice trembling. "When we were fixing you, we thought something might be wrong with your voicebox - it was all twisted and stuff - but we couldn't be sure, and we didn't know how to fix it. Apparently something was wrong..." He trailed off, hoping he didn't sound offensive. But Blank just looked down at his hands. "I see," he replied impassively.

"Right," 7 said slowly. "Why don't we all take a rest cycle? I think it could do us all good." 9 nodded, and the twins went off to their room. 7 paused and then added, "10, I'll show you to your room." While the two girls started the climb up another set of stairs, 9 was left alone with blank.

"You don't have to find me a room," Blank said, and 9 blinked in surprise. "I've had much worse nights. I'll be fine here - I'm not sure I could sleep anyways." He winced as his pitch went from impressively deep to annoyingly high.

9 nodded slowly. "Alright, if you're sure. I'll be in this next room - don't be afraid to come get me." Blank nodded, and 9 went to his room and tried to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5: Dark Thoughts

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the long delay in updates. I wasn't getting many ideas and I didn't want the story to suddenly take a weird turn or anything. x( Anyways, here's chapter 5.

-

The moon was still high in the sky when 3 woke with a start. Just like many other mornings, he looked around wildly for a moment, first trying to place his surroundings with his and 4's old room at the Sanctuary, and then at the library. And it was a few moments after he remembered he was at the laboratory when he remembered the events of the previous night. Immediately he itched to go down the stairs again and scan Blank with his gaze, take numerous pictures and video, store the newcomer's every movement to his seemingly endless memory banks. Of course, they were not _really_ endless, but he had his sister to help him.

He sat up and looked over at his sleeping sister. She was younger than him only by a few minutes. She shared both his love of knowledge and his method of communication, and it was these things that made them the best of friends. 3 smiled, reminiscing of times in the old library, but then a more unpleasant thought entered his mind, and he frowned, trying to shake it away.

3 turned his gaze to the broken window that almost took up one whole wall. Silently, trying not to wake his sister, he crept closer to the window and stood the closest he dared - he didn't want to fall out, after all. He surveyed the broken, desolate landscape, not sure of what he expected to see out there. Were there others? The possibility had occurred to him before, but only as a vague thought, not something he had actually considered. But now they had found Blank, who, now that 3 thought about it, didn't seem to have been created by their Scientist. He had the same basic design, but he had no number, and there were slight differences in the quality of his frame, the craftsmanship of his hands. So where had he come from? And if he was here, could there be more?

_Perhaps I could ask Blank, somehow,_ 3 mused. _Or maybe he said something about it that I forgot?_ In his mind, he reviewed everything that happened, until he remembered something he had been trying not to think about. While the others were inspecting Blank's voicebox, 3 had spotted a strange device, glowing a soft, eerie purple. It was small and round, nestled carefully in the right side of Blank's chest. A shiver ran down his spine as he thought about it. _What does it do?_ he thought. And this thought opened the road to many other horrible possibilities. _What if it's dangerous? What if it's some kind of power supply? What if Blank's a machine in disguise?_ This last thought he discarded immediately. _If he was, then he would've attacked us by now,_ he tried to reassure himself. More shivers ran through himself as he thought, _He almost did. What if-_ But this thought he ended too, giving a brief shake of the head, as if this could rid him of his dark thoughts. _He probably doesn't even know it's there. _But this thought brought another one: _What if it's something horrible, like a bomb, and Blank _doesn't_ know it's there?_ 3 opened his mouth, as if to moan, and he put his head in his hands, sinking down to the floor. He stayed this way for a few minutes before he reached a firm decision. This wasn't the kind of knowledge he could keep to himself. He had to tell 4, and after that, 9, and 7. And 10, too - she deserved to know. In fact. Blank was the one who needed to know the most - that is, if 3's last theory was correct, and Blank didn't know about it.

Soon, 7 was being shaken awake by the twins. "Huh? What? 9.." she mumbled at first, not used to being forced out of her rest cycle. Seeing the worried expression on their faces, she grabbed her spear and demanded, "What is it? A machine? Where's 9, and 10, and Blank? Is this about Blank? Write it down, show me pictures, videos!" Her voice rose as she spoke, and she scanned their faces anxiously, and she realized she might be scaring them a little. "Sorry," she said sheepishly, trying to relax a little. "I guess I'm overreacting. I'm just-" She cut off as 3 shook his head quickly and showed her a still picture of Blank's insides.

7 frowned. "What is it?" she asked. "Did you figure out what's wrong with his voicebox?" 4 shook her head furiously, and 3 zoomed in on a strange device, glowing an ominous purple. 7 gasped and ran up to the wall 3 was projecting the image on. The device looked arcane, beautiful, a piece of the old world. There was a few minutes of silence until 7 breathed, "We need to get 9. And 10." 4 ran off and 3 allowed the projection to fade, but 7 just sat there, staring into space, contemplating the possible outcome of this anomaly.

Ten minutes later, 9 and 10 were also looking at the image, this time projected by 4.10 was baffled, and she fidgeted nervously. "What could it be?" she asked worriedly, wringing her hands. It was a few minutes before 3 twitched and shined an image of a page in a dictionary, quickly zooming in to the definition of _bomb_. But 9 shook his head in response to this. "It looks more like our Talisman," he said with a frown, and he carefully pulled out the ever-so-familiar device. Both images flicked off as the twins turned to each other to communicate their thoughts on this. But after a while, an ominous silence developed, the five of them brooding on this turn of events.

Downstairs, Blank was looking down at his healed body, marveling at the way they had artfully sewed him back together. This was better work than he could have expected of the best healer he had ever known.. and she had thought him done for.. but then, he reasoned, JoAnn didn't know that there were others who could sew better than her. Darker thoughts occurred to him, but he decided to think about the matter at hand; not so long ago, 4 had come down, anxiously beckoning 9 to come upstairs with her. There had been no noise from up there for a while, and Blank was beginning to worry. _Perhaps I should investigate,_ he thought, finally standing up and making his way over to the old stairs.


End file.
